


Somebody's Babe

by Batagur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-09
Updated: 2007-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:50:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batagur/pseuds/Batagur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the road, it's a long way to a safe harbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody's Babe

~*~  
Well, it sucked to be Dean Winchester sometimes. He always felt like he had to be this person that everyone expected: wise-ass, strong, cold, hard-ass, bastard, all of the above and more. It sucked to keep up the front, knowing that if you let it slip, someone or something would have your ass on a stick. It sucked to not be able to trust even your very own brother 'cause he could turn into a psychic-psycho, super-soldier in an unholy war.

And every time he unthinkingly damned his father for laying that load on him, his gut twisted with unbearable guilt. Can't damn the damned. Was his life a good trade? Dean knew, in his heart, that no loving parent would stand aside and let his child die when he knew he could stop it. John Winchester, for all his Marine Corp. discipline, focus and severity, loved his boys. But was it really worth so much?

The first time Ash called him babe, Dean wanted to react, but he had been torn. It was hard to take offense to an endearment when a guy has his cock up your ass to the root. Besides, part of him had really wanted it. Part of him had actually got off on being Ash's 'babe' that night.

Anyhow, that was Ash: ridiculously cocky and obnoxious. Dean wondered what he saw in the man, but, whatever it was, he must have seen it again and again. He knew he would always come back for it. He trusted Ash.

It was as if it was all there in Ash's eyes. Dean had looked into them that first night and just knew he'd found a safe harbor. Ash wouldn't ask questions. Ash wouldn't demand communication. Ash would just be there like a clean, well lit room; someplace where Dean could lay easy and just be.

What did he see in the bastard anyway? Other than soft green eyes peeping behind that stupid "Clint Eastwood" squint… and maybe a slightly pouting lower lip that looked like it needed serious sucking on. And nice, big hands… Yeah, Dean liked the hands from the first. Ash had put his hands flat on the bar when he said he liked Dean. That was when they first met. Dean remembered those hands. They featured heavily in a few dreams afterwards.

His safe harbor: Ash. Dean was so far removed from the pain when Ash's hands were on him, that his real life was like a very strange dream. He wasn't Dean anymore. He was "Babe." All "Babe" had to do was let Ash love him, and it felt so fucking good.

What would John Winchester have said if he knew? Dean was pretty sure that his dad would have hated it. He might not have said it out loud. He might have even tried to tolerate it, as long as it didn't get in the way of the job, but he would have hated it.

It frightened Dean when he thought people could see it. And Sam had told him that he was so butch that it looked like he over-compensated. Did he? He thought Ash did, with all his slow talk and shifty-eyed looks. Did it show on him? Would Sam see it eventually?

It was a long drive back to the Roadhouse. Coming in from Utah, Wisconsin, or Connecticut, or wherever the job took them, they had reasons to touch base with Ellen and Ash. But it wasn't easy anymore. Sam was a target, and the Roadhouse was full of hunters, some of which probably knew what Sam was. It was Dean's job to keep Sam safe. That meant staying away from the Roadhouse.

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter when he thought that. He had no choice. Wasn't life a bitch? After so long, he found that safe harbor only to be denied clear access to it. Ash's hands were part of a desire so deep and hard that Dean felt he could just reach right out and he'd touch them, no matter where he was. Yeah, but sometimes the job was about sacrifice, right?

Sam was asleep in the passenger seat. It was two AM in Nebraska. What the fuck, Dean thought as he pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. US 20 between Orin, Wyoming and Harrison, Nebraska was dark and lonely at two AM, and Dean was too close to the edge. He needed something, anything.  
Ash answered his cell after the third try.

"Fuckin' drunk piece of shit," Dean muttered into his phone.

"Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah, it's me."

There was shuffling and bumping noises on the other end of the line. Dean wondered what fucked-up position Ash had fallen asleep in.

"What'd ya need?"

Dean hesitated, worried about saying it out loud. Sammy was only the next seat over. Besides, he'd never actually said it out loud ever in his life.

The silence on the line must have gone on too long. Ash finally said in a softer voice, "I know, babe."

"Yeah," Dean replied in a strained whisper. His throat felt tight.

"You hold on," Ash said, his voice gentled just for Dean. "I'll be here."

"You know I…." Dean didn't know how to put everything he wanted and needed in to word. He didn't know how to express his frustration.

"Shh," Ash hushed him. "It's okay, babe. I know you'll be here in the morning."

"We can't stay," Dean replied softly.

"I know. We'll find some time."

Dean wanted to say his name, but he stopped himself, wary, always wary. What if Sam heard and understood the anguish in his voice when he called Ash's name? Sometimes it hurt too much and he could hear it in his own voice. It hurt now. It hurt like a bitch.

His hand gripped the wheel tighter, until his knuckles turned white, and he swallowed hard. "I need some time," he whispered. "With you."

"We'll get it, babe," Ash replied. His voice sounded confident, but Dean was not reassured. "Just hang on… keep drivin'."

"Night," Dean said softly.

"Night," Ash replied.

Dean hit the end button on his cell and then dropped the phone on the seat next to his thigh. Five more hours until Harvelle's Roadhouse. It would be empty in the morning, but, by noon, some of the regulars could show. By nine PM, it wouldn't be safe at all. That was when the hunters came to call.

He and Sam would be gone by then, and hopefully, Dean will have gotten his fix. Just maybe, before the journey began again, he would be held in that safe place by strong hands. He could be somebody's babe, just for a little while.


End file.
